


To Your Glasses, Steady

by Anonymous



Category: Boardwalk Empire
Genre: Gen, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-24
Updated: 2010-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-14 00:47:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/143478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jimmy visits Al when things aren't going well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Your Glasses, Steady

**Author's Note:**

  * For [viceindustrious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/viceindustrious/gifts).



Jimmy saw Al first, bent over in laughter in a dark wooden chair on the far end of the restaurant. When he came up for air, Jimmy caught his attention with a wave and moved to the bar.

One shot of watery, stale whiskey later, Al was clapping him on the back and greeting him as if he’d been away for years, not mere months.

“This tastes like horse piss,” Jimmy said.

“Good to see you, too.” Al grinned; it seemed nothing but genuine. “Let’s get out of here, before the boys drag you into a poker game you ain’t gonna win.”

“Well, I’m certainly not inclined to stay for the drinks.” Jimmy made a derisive noise but followed Al away from the bar. “Got any cigarettes?” He asked, and waited for Al to fish around his pockets when they reached the sidewalk.

Al handed him a crumpled pack of Lucky Strikes and he drew out one slender cigarette before tossing it back. Jimmy lit it, drawing the hot smoke into his lungs, a familiar, comforting hit that made his brain buzz in a way that complimented the dulling effect of alcohol.

“So what brings you back to Chicago?”

Jimmy blew a stream of smoke over his shoulder and sniffed. “I needed to get away for a little while. Me an’ Angela, we’re not doing so great.”

Al had the decency to look almost sympathetic, but ruined the illusion by cracking a smile. “A man shouldn’t have any problems with a broad that two fists won’t fix.”

Jimmy pointedly ignored him; Al was good for a lot of things, but help with personal domestic issues wasn’t one of them. He wasn’t about to give Al the chance to call him a cuckold— _cornuto_ , he’d probably laugh, as if it were merely a bawdy joke—and give him a pity fuck from one of his girls. “And there may be some things happening in Atlantic City that I’d be better off avoiding for now.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“I’m not sure yet.” Jimmy stubbed out his cigarette on a light pole and tossed the butt. He didn’t want to talk about Nucky or the Commodore or Eli or picking sides. “Jesus fuck, it’s cold out here.”

“Eh, it ain’t so bad. For Chicago,” Al said, his breath hanging in a fog in front of his face; Jimmy couldn’t tell if he was being sincere or facetious. Winter still clung to the air tenaciously, but the worst of it had passed when February folded into March. A light dusting of snow crunched underfoot and seeped into Jimmy’s shoes as it melted, rendering his feet unpleasantly numb.

“Where are we going?”

“Just north, over the river. We just started running girls out of the Grand Avenue Hotel. Classy place. You’ll like it.”

“Your gang running the whole show ‘round here now?”

“More or less,” Al replied, his obvious pride leaking out behind his nonchalant demeanor. “We got control of all the booze between Hyde Park and Uptown and nobody gets pussy around here without us getting a cut.”

“Good for you,” Jimmy said sincerely. “Out making a name for yourself.”

“You can say that again. Someday, everyone will know old Al Capone.”

Just then, a black Duesenberg clipped the curb near Jimmy as it peeled out of an alley, almost hitting him with the front bumper. He stumbled and swore at the driver.

“ _Testa di cazzo,_ ” Al added under his breath before he yanked Jimmy’s arm, pulling him in toward the sidewalk and away from the street. “You gotta watch out around here.”

“One of yours, probably, in a car like that.”

“The boss don’t ride in nothing but Rolls Royces now, and the rest of us can’t afford a Duesie. Yet.”

Jimmy huffed something that sounded like a laugh, and hunched his shoulders against a sudden gust of wind. He fell just a foot behind Al, letting him lead; when they reached the end of the block, Al turned them onto a wide avenue, bustling with beat up flivvers and a few old horses straining under the weight of heavy cargo, the sidewalks lined with women in mink coats draped over the arms of dapper men and day laborers in seedy coats, heading home after spending the day raising steel beams skyward.

Just ahead, a solid bascule bridge pinned in place with four white towers connected the south to the north. As they approached, the traffic stopped, and a small throng of people clustered near the guardrail, watching.

“Bridge is going up,” Al said, as he stopped and settled against the railing.

Jimmy followed suit, leaning over to watch a barge and a taller commercial ship glide up to the bridge and wait for passage. “Where are they going?” He asked after a few minutes.

“Canals. They dug ‘em all the way down to the Mississippi. You don’t know about the Chicago River?”

“What about it?”

Al pulled his cigarettes out of his pocket and lit a match, shielding it from the wind with a cupped hand. “Back in the day, the river flowed out to Lake Michigan. But there was a problem—see, when they dumped the sewage into the river, it flowed right out into the lake, right into the drinking water. And as you might guess, this didn’t go so well for the city of Chicago. So about twenty years ago, they decide they’re gonna reverse the river, and make it flow out of the lake instead, so they built all these canals to do that.”

“They did that instead of just not dumping shit in the river? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“No, that’s American fuckin’ ingenuity, my friend.”

Jimmy smirked, and watched the barge tug doggedly down the river below.

“And if there’s one thing you should learn from that, it’s that shit always flows downstream. But if you’re downstream to start, all you gotta do is stay where you are and reverse the tide.” Al spread his arms in an open gesture.

“That’s often easier said than done.”

“Eh, listen to you. You’ll never be top of the food chain with an attitude like that.”

“Sometimes I don’t know if I even want to be at the top.”

Al regarded him now with genuine surprise. “You’ve sure done a lot of shit to make a lot of people want to kill you; why go to all that trouble if you won’t get to enjoy being top dog?”

The arms of the bridge had begun their slow descent; Jimmy watched them, an anxious twitch in his back eager to get moving again.

“I don’t know, Al. I thought it was all my idea, but now I’m not so sure. Sometimes I think it was no more my idea than going to Princeton was. Do you ever feel that way? Like you think your life’s your own, but really you’re just getting jerked around without you even knowing?”

Al was silent for a moment. Then, “No.” He said it simply, uncolored by the mocking, dismissive tone Jimmy had expected.

The bridge finally settled level and traffic resumed.

“Forget it,” Jimmy said as they pushed their way through the crowd.

Al didn’t argue, just continued to lead them over the bridge and back onto the street. To the left and right both spindly metal skeletons sprouted from the ground, nascent skyscrapers testifying to the rising power of local legitimate industries. Walking with purpose against the chill, they reached Grand Avenue quickly. The hotel loomed on the corner, an ornate metal scrollwork awning shielding a doorman who ushered them in with polite deference.

It was a nice hotel; Jimmy had to allow that. Al watched Jimmy intently for any sign of awe or approval as they walked past the entryway and into a dimly light bar, decorated with dark red velvet upholstery and a patina of cigar smoke. A bouncer kept a watchful eye on Jimmy, but Al’s approval seemed to carry a weight of respectability; the bouncer kept his distance.

“This operation is real upscale,” he said. “And discreet. For, you know, the politicians and whoever. They pick the girl down at the bar, and we send her up a little later.”

Jimmy nodded and slid into an open stool at the bar.

“See that girl over there? With the dark hair? That’s Sadie. I guarantee you can’t have any more fun tonight than you’d have with her.” Al jabbed his elbow into Jimmy’s ribs and coupled the move with a lascivious waggle of his eyebrows. Jimmy flinched.

“I appreciate the offer, but no thanks.”

Al marveled at this. “Angela must’ve really done a number on you.”

“Something like that,” he said, and motioned for the bartender.

“Well,” Al said, signaling for a second shot, “I don’t know what’s goin’ on with you in Atlantic City, or with Angela, but you’re always welcome here. And I don’t just mean in my cathouse.” Al grinned so widely that Jimmy couldn’t help the way the corner of his own mouth twitched into a half-smile.

“Thanks.”

“I mean it. I trust you, Jimmy, and the kind of work we’re in don’t afford the opportunity to trust many people. But I can tell—you and me are in this for the long haul.”

“Jesus, Al, don’t make it sound like we’re married.”

Al chuffed out a laugh. “No way I’d marry your ugly mug. You’re even uglier than the wife I already got at home.” He raised his shot glass, sloshing liquor over the rim. “To friends.”

Jimmy raised his glass in recognition and threw back the shot. It fought its way down his throat, leaving an angry burn in its wake. “To friends,” he repeated, and flipped the glass upside down on the bar.

Al mirrored the gesture and shook his head, as if to mitigate the first heady shot of liquor. Jimmy noted the way he did everything with ineffable ease, so forthright and simple. He seemed almost incapable of obfuscation, though logically Jimmy knew this wasn’t true. Still, at that moment he trusted Al more than anyone else, and so he ceded himself to Al’s will the way he would to Tommy’s childlike insistence for attention.

“Up for another? Believe me, this place gets the best bourbon in the whole city,” Al said.

Jimmy nodded. “I believe you, Al. Keep ‘em coming.”


End file.
